


seasons change

by raisuki (inthegripofahurricane)



Category: Death Note
Genre: Angst, Gender Dysphoria, Internalized Transphobia, M/M, Trans Character, Transphobia, fluffy toward the end tho hopefully, nb!L, sachiko cries a lot, trans!halle, trans!light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 17:29:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4885519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inthegripofahurricane/pseuds/raisuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His voice had deepened, his fat had begun to redistribute, and his period had stopped. The skin of the girl he’d left behind had finally begun to shed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	seasons change

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ghoulhunt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghoulhunt/gifts).



> For the wonderful Mia/Jeevas-exe for our fic swap. We actually talked about trans!light a while back, and I though it would be cool to incorporate it into our fic swap. This fic was written in one weekend (because I'm a dick who only gets things done a couple days before the deadline) and isn't beta'd, so bare that in mind if you think it's shit.
> 
> BTW, in case you didn't read the tags, warning for some pretty shitty transphobia.

Light was twelve when he first cut his hair short.

 

It had been frustrating him—falling over his shoulders and face as he worked. He normally tied it up, but that didn’t stop it from brushing against the back of his neck and reminding him of what it was—what it represented. In an impulsive, angry moment he’d cut it off with the scissors from his pencil case. It fell on the floor in auburn clumps, and Light had stared at it for a few seconds before running his hands through his newly cut hair.  

 

When his mother saw it, she’d burst into tears, sobbing about how beautiful his hair had been, and how he’d look like a boy like that.

 

She’d gotten over it eventually, or at least, compromised that if he _were_ going to have short hair, it would at least be well cut. She dragged him to the hairdresser’s the next day, and the hairdresser salvaged what was left, fashioning it into a haircut she claimed was extremely fashionable amongst girls and young women.

 

Sachiko cheered up a little at that, and kneeled down to Light’s level. “Don’t you look grown-up, Light-chan?”

 

* * *

 

 

Light never _realized_ he was a boy it had; it always been obvious, just like how anyone else’s gender seemed obvious. Although he’d never had must interest in cars or team sports, and he cared about how he looked, he’d never felt like anything but a boy. It was as if his parents had forced him into girls’ clothes and told everyone that was what he was—and everyone was playing along to the same sick charade.

 

He was often yelled at for automatically peeling off with the boys when they were separated from the girls, making everyone snigger and Light’s ears turn pink. Once he was in high school, he attempted to appear more feminine, letting his hair grow a little longer and giggling and acting demure when the moment called for it. Before, he’d been labeled a tomboy at best and a lesbian at worst—which was ridiculous—he didn’t even _like_ girls.

Light had looked it up online, and found out that there were surgeries and hormones available to alter people’s biological sex, to make it match the gender they identified with. He read about binders, testosterone and breast removal—and to his disappointment—how expensive they were.

 

When Light first got his period, he’d heaved with wet sobs, wanting nothing more than to punch a wall or squeeze his legs together so tight he forgot what was there. His mother had found him, and patted him on the back, telling him that it was alright, and that ‘ _you’re becoming a woman now_.’

 

When his mother called him a ‘she’ and a ‘woman’, Light wanted to scream.

 

The frustration wasn’t _just_ directed at his mother, of course, because he was frustrated at his body, too, because _boys didn’t get periods and boys didn’t have breasts and boys weren’t called girls by all their friends and family_ —

 

His mother must have thought the blood had upset him, because she stayed there for a few moments, stroking circles into his back.

  

* * *

 

 

Light ordered his first binder off the Internet when he was sixteen. He’d had to save for a while, after quiet Internet searches in the middle of the night, when he was sure everyone else was asleep. He’d tactfully ordered it around Sayu’s birthday, hushing her and winking when she asked what it was.

 

He tried it on in the dim light of his room on the evening of its arrival, wearing his baggiest T-shirt and jeans. He mussed his hair a little to make it look a bit more masculine, and when he squinted, he thought that maybe, he’d be able to pass.

His height was a blessing, really. He was 5’9, and with his boyish haircut, people often commented on his androgynous appearance. The comments made him glow with pride—up until the follow up of ‘you’re too pretty to look like a boy though, Light-chan, don’t worry.’

 

When he heard comments like that, the illusion vanished.

 

He ran a finger over the fabric and sighed, unzipping it at the front and tossing it behind the bed where he was sure his mother wouldn’t find it.

 

When he was seventeen, he gathered the courage to tell them.

 

He explained to them calmly and slowly, hoping that they’d at least _try_ to understand. Instead, his mother had immediately burst into tears, telling him it was alright, and that he was just confused, and that they’d do something about it. His father stayed very, very quiet, staring at his plate and avoiding Light’s gaze.

 

“Do… do you mean you’re lesbian?” He asked carefully.

 

“No. I’m not a lesbian.” Light replied, doing his best to remain patient. “I… I don’t like girls.”

 

“Can’t… can’t you just be a straight girl, then?” His father asked despairingly, finally meeting his gaze.

 

“I’m not a girl, Dad. I’m not a straight girl or a lesbian, alright? I’m a boy… stuck in a girl’s body.” Light explained, cringing at the analogy. He resented referring to his body as a girl’s body, because it wasn’t, it was _his_ body, but it seemed to be the only terminology his parents would understand.

 

His father stared at him, unblinking. Light stared back, refusing to break eye contact.

 

“I’m… I’m a boy.” He repeated in a stammer, attempting to fill the silence.

 

They argued about it more, and instead of his parents understanding as he’d hoped, there came only weeks of silence between them. He felt betrayed—because they were his parents, they were supposed to love him unconditionally. Although he didn’t mind staying in his room all the time, (it was barely a change from before) it was if he’d simply disappeared—like he was a ghost they all refused to acknowledge.

 

Light convinced himself he didn’t care. He was content to go make his own meals after his family had finished, avoiding them whenever possible. Outside of school, he wore his binder and the boys’ clothes he’d accumulated over the years almost all the time, not caring about any of the malcontent would throw him whenever they chose to acknowledge him.

 

Sayu had remained quiet for the first week or so, but a few days after he’d come out to his parents, she’d padded into his room while he was doing his homework.

 

“Onee—” She stopped herself midsentence. “—Onii-chan.”

 

That made Light turn around, only to give her a surprised stare.

 

“Your… your hair is getting long.” She said tentatively, and laughed lightly. She scrambled through her pocket for something, and withdrew a pair of scissors. Light raised an eyebrow. “If you’re going to be a boy,” She said tentatively, “at the very least, you should have a decent haircut.”

 

Light continued to stare at her for a while, unsure of what to say. Eventually, he broke into a small smile.

 

“You’re probably right,” he whispered.

 

* * *

 

He started working several jobs, sacrificing cram school for the time to work to buy his own apartment, pay for hormone injections and eventually get the surgery he wanted. When he thought about it, the cost seemed dizzying, especially without his parents support.

 

Light couldn’t afford to think about it too much.

 

The first order of business was to get his own apartment. Light didn’t care where it was or whether or not it was nice—he just wanted to get out of his parents house. They loved him—he knew that. They just didn’t understand. And that was that.

 

From the money, eventually he’d been able to afford to rent a bachelor apartment not too far away from To-Oh’s campus.

 

Initially, his parents had denied paying the fees for To-Oh. Although the majority was covered by his scholarship, they thought it would deter him from transitioning. Once they’d realized that wasn’t happening, they’d relented, and had agreed to pay the remainder of the fees.

 

He’d formally appealed to the university to keep his biological sex a secret—at last—presenting as a man. No one had even batted an eye when he turned up to the opening ceremony dressed in a suit.

He’d been on testosterone for a year by then. His voice had deepened, his fat had begun to redistribute, and his period had stopped. The skin of the girl he’d left behind had finally begun to shed.

 

* * *

 

 

Light avoided sex whenever possible, not even getting into a relationship once for the first two years of To-Oh. He’d never had a girlfriend—or boyfriend—for that matter, and didn’t plan on getting one until after he had his reassignment surgery. People often thought it was strange that someone so handsome and popular never went out with anyone, but on the whole, they left it alone.

 

Ninsei Sada was the only openly gay person Light knew. It was obvious Ninsei was attracted to him; the lingering stares and touches were indicative of such, and without thinking, Light had ended the evening tumbling into his apartment with Ninsei on his lips.

 

Ninsei had wanted to sleep with him, but Light offered to give him a blowjob instead. If Ninsei was upset that Light didn’t take anything but his jacket off while he was doing it, he didn’t say so.

 

The truth was inescapable, however.

 

Light was sure Ninsei was truly, one hundred percent gay. It was obvious from the way he spoke about women, the way he spoke about female genitalia like it was _repulsive_ made Light feel a pang of misery every time he heard it.

 

“Why don’t you want to do it, Light-kun?” Ninsei asked, nuzzling Light’s neck, “I’ll be on bottom, if that’s what’s freaking you out so much…”

 

“You don’t want to have sex with me.”

 

“I doubt that. What is it Light-kun?” He pulled away, “You can tell me.”

 

Several minutes of coaxing and convincing followed, during which Light forced him to promise he wouldn’t tell anyone, too distracted by the fog of arousal to think straight. In retrospect, it would seem ridiculous, for him to give Ninsei the power to hurt him in that way.

 

“I…” Light stammered, “You… you have to promise not to tell anyone.”

 

Ninsei’s eyes sparkled in the dark. “I promise.”

 

“I’m… I’m transgender.”

 

Ninsei’s hand disappeared from his thigh.

 

* * *

 

Ninsei Sada had broken his promise. By the following Monday, everyone in To-Oh seemed to know. Light’s phone buzzed on a continuous loop, and he did his best to ignore it, dreading what he’d see. People would say he was a strange, that he was odd, that he wanted to _deceive_ people.

 

The following days bled into one another, and Light barely got out of bed. He switched the television on once in a while, but switched it back off a few minutes later, unable to focus on anything, only seeing flashing shapes and too-loud sounds.

 

The thing that finally pried him out of bed was the email from one of his bosses, threatening to fire him if he wasn’t at work the next day.

 

He got up and stretched, putting his binder on for the first time in days, and did the one hundred sit ups he did everyday. They’d paid off—leaving him with a lithe but muscular frame. Hormones had redistributed his fat, making his shoulders broader and his hips narrower. Girls were starting to look at him the way they looked at boys—or they had started to. That could all be over now.

 

The café he worked at was in a western style, and served various European pastries and drinks. It was rustic and lazy—never overly full or claustrophobic. Out of all Light’s jobs—he liked it best.

 

Light wasn’t sure what he expected when he got there—perhaps numerous people from his college waiting for him, ready to laugh and make fun of him. To his surprise, no one even seemed to stir when he arrived, carrying on with their quiet chattering and murmuring.

His hands shook no matter how much he willed them to stop, and he leaned against the counter in any attempt to steady himself.

 

His manager appeared from behind the shop, her eyebrows raised.

 

“You turned up,” she muttered, her eyebrows raised. “I thought you were dead.”

 

“Can’t get rid of me that easily.” Light was surprised he managed to keep his voice steady.

 

She rolled her eyes. “Get to work, Yagami-kun.”

 

He pulled an apron off a hanger, and doing his best to calm his nerves, started to wipe down vacant tables. His eyes darted around the place—expecting to see people mocking him from the corner of his eye.

 

Light did his best to avoid all human interaction—happy to clean and tidy until his shift was over. One of his co-workers, Naomi, occasionally shot him a sympathetic look, seeming to sense his anxiety.

 

It wasn’t until his shift was almost over that a customer came over to talk to him; Light felt their presence behind him before he heard the clearing of their throat. He spun around, wondering if they’d heard about him and were here to make fun of him.

 

A tall, attractive woman in her mid to late twenties stood before him. She smiled nervously, and scratched the back of her neck.

 

“Are you Light Yagami?” She asked. Her voice was slightly lower and huskier than Light had anticipated.

 

“Yes.” He answered, slightly sharply. “Whatever you’ve heard about me, I don’t care, so please just leave—”

 

“I _have_ heard about you,” the woman interrupted, “but please just hear me out, alright? I’m not going to make fun of you or anything.”

 

Light didn’t speak, looking at her suspiciously, but nodding curtly as an indication to continue.

 

“I… I heard about what happened from my little brother,” she explained, “he goes to your college. Anyway, I was wondering if you’d like to attend the local LGBTQ society meeting. There are a couple of other trans students there, including myself, that would definitely appreciate you coming.” She smiled crookedly, “There aren’t as many of us, you know?”

 

“Wait,” Light said, raising an eyebrow, “you’re…”

 

“I’m male to female, yes.” She said evenly. She didn’t seem to care about whether or not people could hear her.

 

Light wasn’t sure how to respond. He’d never met another transgender person before—especially one who seemed confident and nonchalant about it. Light didn’t know if he’d ever be able to feel at ease with who he was—his sense of being _other_ seemed to follow him like a dark cloud wherever he went, although there was absolutely no doubt in his mind that was definitely, distinctly, male.

 

Neither of them spoke, and the woman laughed nervously.

 

“I’m Halle Lidner, by the way.”

 

“…Nice to meet you, Lidner-san.”

 

“So…” Halle asked nervously, “You’ll come?”

 

“I’ll consider it,” Light replied slowly.

 

In truth, Light wasn’t sure. On the one hand, he was intrigued to meet other people like him, but on the other hand, joining a group felt like _advertising_ how different he was to the entire world.

 

“I have to leave,” Halle said, “I was just dropping by, nice meeting you, though. We meet at the local function hall every Friday at seven. I hope I see you there.”

 

Light gave her a faint nod, taking her words in silently. Normally, he was articulate and found it easy to converse with people—but for the first time in recent memory—he was stumped for words.

Halle disappeared through the glass doors, giving him a final wave and a warm smile. He watched her leave, unable to tear his eyes away.

 

* * *

 

Light debated whether or not he ought to go back home. He wasn’t even sure what purpose coming here served—he didn’t even know what he was going to _do_ at an LGBTQ Society. Part of him still wanted to stay inside and not show his face for a little longer—but it would be impossible to avoid everyone forever.

 

He pushed through the front entrance, digging his hands into his pockets in an attempt to appear casual. Around twenty people hovered around the room talking and laughing. A table was set up with various cakes and snacks laid out, which were predominately hogged by one skinny, sloppily dressed man in his twenties.

 

Light hovered near the frays of the crowd, wondering if anyone would notice if he left straight away. He was considering doing so, before he caught Halle’s eye from across the room. She grinned and waved at him, beckoning him over.

 

Now that he’d caught her eye, it was impossible to leave.

 

“Yagami-kun!” She smiled. “I want to introduce you to some people.”

 

“I’m not going to stay here that long—”

 

“That’s fine. But would you let me introduce you to L first? They’re trans too, I’m sure you’d get along.”

 

Light was about to continue, but Halle called across the room to whoever ‘L’ was. The lanky man who’d been hanging around the snack table wandered over, his hair hanging over his face. Another man tagged behind him, his eyes glued to his phone.

 

“L,” Halle greeted. “This is Yagami-kun, I told you about him.”

 

L nodded. “You’re a transgender man, right?”

 

Light was slightly taken aback by L’s bluntness, but smiled weakly nonetheless. “…Yes.”

 

“Male pronouns?”

 

“What do you mean?

 

“You use ‘he’ and ‘him.”

 

“Oh, right. Yes.” Light replied, slightly bemused. He’d never been asked what pronouns he preferred—yes, he’d curtly told people that he was a man and preferred to be referred to as such—but no one had _actively_ asked him.

 

L nodded. “Well, I’d appreciate if you referred to be with gender neutral pronouns.”

 

 “Gender neutral?”

 

“Neither male or female,” L said slowly. His—their—words were edged with annoyance.

 

Light had briefly read about non-binary genders online, but hadn’t done _that_ much research. He burst with questions, but didn’t ask them, thinking they would sound rude. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around being neither male or female—but it wasn’t as if his gender was what most people would call normal either.

 

“Oh. Okay.”

 

L’s face softened slightly, and they nodded to the boy hovering behind them.

 

“This is B, by the way. He doesn’t seem to want to introduce himself.”

 

B grunted a hello, his eyes quickly flitting back to his phone. He looked somewhat embarrassed. His hair was mussed in a way that could only be deliberate, and he appeared to have the remnants of eyeliner under his eyes.

 

Halle started chattering to L, barely acknowledging either B or Light’s existence. Light met B’s eyes briefly, and smiled politely. B stared at him for a couple of seconds, before quickly going back to his phone.

 

Light itched to leave—to return back to his apartment and go to sleep—but he felt he ought to at least _try_.

 

He cleared his throat. “B-san.”

 

B looked up, his face blank. “…Yeah?”

 

“Is… is that foreign?”

 

“It’s a nickname.”

 

“For what?”

 

B scowled, as if Light was rude for asking. “None of your business.” He snapped.

 

“Oh,” Light said. “Sorry.”

 

He didn’t see why what he said was so offensive, or that it had warranted B’s response.

 

Light made no further attempt to talk to B, and since L and Halle were paying attention to each other and each other only, he tagged behind them the entire time. He wasn’t used to being on the outside looking in—people normally found him magnetic and fascinating—but here…

Nine ‘o’ clock swung by and Light murmured that he was going home. Before he could leave, Halle slipped her number into the palm of his hand. She smiled warmly, and whispered that he should call her if he was ever lonely.

 

With anyone else—he might have mistaken the overtures as being romantic or sexual—but with Halle he knew it was a kind of maternal concern. It was nice, in a way.

 

He smiled and thanked her, before slipping outside, not bothering to say goodbye to anyone else

 

* * *

 

 

Light wasn’t sure if he could call L and B his friends. He was certainly friends with Halle (she probably constituted as his only friend, really) but he wasn’t sure if the same could be said for L and B. L was friends with Halle, and since Light tagged along with Halle, he ended up spending time with L, even though they barely spoke. Light spoke even less to B, who spent the majority of his time on his phone, and only spoke to L occasionally in grouchy, low murmurs. Occasionally Light could feel his eyes on his back—but they would disappear as soon as Light turned around.

 

During one of his few conversations with L, Light had asked L if B disliked him. L had laughed and assured him he definitely didn’t.

 

A year had crawled by. Light had returned to University eventually, albeit reluctantly. He had never been followed by cruel whispers in his life before, since he’d labored and mastered the art of appearing to fit in. He hadn’t been surprised, though. At first they’d been irritating, scary even, but months had passed without major incident. Halle had taught him how to knock someone out in one punch—and Light told himself he’d eventually be able to get used to the names. He did his best to distance himself from the mockery with the promise that college wouldn’t last forever, and prayed that the worst wasn’t yet to come.

 

He still hadn’t talked to his parents in over a year. He wondered if they still clung to the desperate image of their little girl, who’d act sweet and demure and find a nice, normal boyfriend and get a good job, eventually to become the perfect mother. Or maybe, they’d come to accept she’d never really existed.

 

His shoulders had broadened further, as had his jaw. And a week ago—he’d had his breasts removed.

 

He traced the twin scars adorning his ribcage—pink and sensitive to touch. The binder, although it served the purpose of disguising his _curves_ from everyone else, it was still a reminder of what was underneath. He remembered switching the lights off when he changed as a teenager—too disgusted by what he saw.

 

A knock at the door made him jump. He pulled a T-shirt on, and padded through the hall and pulled the door open.

 

B stood before him, hands in his pockets; looking like a deer in headlights. “Is… is L here?” He stammered.

 

“No.” Light replied, “Them and Halle aren’t coming until half-past.”

 

“Oh.” B said, staring at his feet. His eyes wandered somewhere behind Light.

 

“You can come in and wait,” Light said dryly, “if you want.”

 

“Oh. Right.”

 

B stepped in. He eyed Light briefly, his gaze falling. “Halle told me that you got the…” He gestured to Light’s chest.

 

“Yeah,” Light filled in. “Do you want to see?”

 

“Uh… alright.”

 

Light peeled his shirt over his head and threw it on the floor. He hadn’t taken his shirt off in front of anyone since he’d started presenting as male, and felt a little self-conscious as B’s eyes roamed over his chest.

 

“Does it hurt?”

 

“Not much.”

 

B nodded, looking awkward. “Did you tell your parents—” He shook his head. “Sorry. Insensitive.”

 

“Kind of.” Light said coldly. B looked apologetic, quickly averting his gaze.

 

“Sorry,” He repeated in a mumble.

 

“I think I will, though.” Light whispered. “I haven’t… I haven’t talked to them in over a year.”

 

“You should at least try.” B mused, “If you think it would help.”

 

“To be honest,” Light said, after a small pause, “it’s weird having this conversation with you. I barely talk to you.”

 

B’s ears tinged red. “I don’t have a problem with you or anything—”

 

“It’s fine. It’s not like I make much of an effort.”

 

B stared at him, his eyes like fishbowls. It was obvious from the way he dressed that he was attempting to mimic L—who managed to look nonchalant and effortless, in a way that made them look interesting and alternative instead of sloppy. Their effortlessness only made them more magnetic—Light could see why B was so fascinated by them.

 

“My parents would probably see me not talking to them as a blessing.” B said, sounding as if he wanted to change the subject. He laughed, but didn’t sound as if he found it very funny.

 

“My parents might be the same way. It doesn’t seem like anyone cares about me anymore.”

 

“I care about you,” B said quickly. He looked as if he regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. “…And so does Halle. And L. Well, I’m not sure if they care about anything, but I don’t think they actively dislike you.”

 

Light chuckled. “Thanks. It’s… appreciated.”

 

L and Halle arrived, and Light and B went back to not talking. Light didn’t mind being quiet—he’d always spoken a lot during conversation before—just to seem normal and social. Now, he didn’t feel it was necessary to feel comfortable.

 

Once everyone had gone home, Light dialed the number he knew off by heart.

 

“Hey,” Light gulped, “Mom, it’s me…”

 

* * *

 

Light had spoken to Sayu several times since leaving home, and she had always sounded sympathetic, but they’d never breached the topic of their parents. Not even once.

 

Light gulped and wiped his palms on his trouser legs. He’d decided to wear a suit—slim cut and expensive—something his father would want his son to wear. He’d even let some stumble ghost across his jaw—to reaffirm how much he’d changed.

 

He knocked and waited, and after a few seconds, Sayu opened the door and grinned.

 

“Onii-chan!” She squealed, “You look great! You look so much bigger!”

 

Light was about to respond—before he noticed his mother hovering in the hallway behind Sayu.

 

She took a few steps forward, and upon further notice, Light could see her eyes were shining with tears.

 

“I’m not—”

 

She shook her head, breaking into a tight smile.

 

“Light,” she said, her voice shaking slightly. She reached forward, brushing her hand across his face.

 

“Mom—”

 

“Don’t you look handsome?”


End file.
